


better as your chew toy

by avapacifica



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Choices, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fucked Up, M/M, Manipulation, Marriage, Mindfuck, Porn With Plot, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, it's my first time posting it so it's gonna be rough ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avapacifica/pseuds/avapacifica
Summary: the marriage comes with an agreement, one they both enjoy
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	better as your chew toy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my Wayne/Crane bullshit lmao. This is my first time posting smut, so let me know how I did. I know it's rough, but I kinda wanna put it out there.

They’re in the same theater. The one with the alley outside. Not because either of them like the show they bought tickets to, but simply because Jonathan picks what they do now. In a moment of desperation, Bruce had begged him to give it all up; the crimes, the toxin, and just  _ be _ with him. The next day, they were married.

That’s not to say Jonathan didn’t hesitate. Bruce was asking him to hang up his mask for good, to rip the Scarecrow from himself and throw it in the trash. Even if he was different, he was a part of him. So of course there had to be a compromise. Jonathan could ask Bruce to stop being the Batman. It would only be fair, with him doing the same, and he has no doubt that Bruce would do it right away. He doesn’t want that though. What he craves is what he always has; control. 

He loves Bruce. But if no one else is going to fear, then he must.

So they’re at the theater, the one where his parents died. When Jonathan had brought it up, Bruce hadn’t spoken a word of complaint. What a perfect little puppet. Jonathan had thought it would’ve been less fun to slowly destroy Wayne with his consent, but he was far off. Seeing Bruce in this position, wanting it no less? He sometimes thinks his husband loves their arrangement more than he does. 

“I want to leave.” Jonathan tells him. Normally he’d phrase it as a command, or even a question, but he wants to see if Bruce allows him, lets an old situation seep through the cracks to try and protect someone he loves. He swallows, hardens his grip on the seat, but whispers back.

“Okay.” Jonathan is impressed. There’s no fight in it. He’s walking right into what near killed him as a child, but this time he knows it. They wait for a break in the performance, and when applause surrounds them, they take their leave. 

Jonathan leads, like he’s been doing a lot of lately. They get to that alley, and the man he’s paid jumps out with a gun. The doctor hopes it doesn’t seem too staged, despite it being exactly so. In the right head space, Bruce would recognize what this is, or at least have the sense to question it. Now though, he just doesn’t want the past repeated.

He pushes Jonathan out of the way, reaching for the gun, disarming their attacker in a reckless move. He’s got it, it’s in his hand. But only then does Bruce process the ringing in his ears. Memories flashback, only seconds before, as if his brain tried to spare him the details a few moments longer. The gun had gone off, and a body hit the ground.

Fear is coursing throughout every inch of him. He knows he can’t kill, but his hands are shaking and he can’t seem to point the gun away from the man, who is now shaking on the ground. He mutters something about how this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Bruce is sure it wasn’t. 

His finger dances over the trigger, and he eventually settles on it. A hand finds his shoulder, and all racing thoughts stop. Jonathan is there next to him, Bruce can recognize him from his grip. The gun tumbles out of his hands as his husband circles around him, putting space between Bruce and the criminal. He holds under his chin.

“Your eyes.” It’s all but a whisper. “Your pupils are fascinating when you’re afraid.” The man scrambles away behind them, neither notice. Realization is dawning on him, but to keep himself happy just a moment longer, Jonathan indulges. “I could have died.”

Bruce has no words, he usually doesn’t in situations like these. His hands criss-cross over Crane’s abdomen, searching for blood but finding a bullet lodged in Kevlar. He grips the man’s suit, adamant about not letting go.

Jonathan thinks this ordeal is a blessing in disguise. Without toxin, everything feels all the more raw. He snakes his arm under Bruce’s, supporting him to a busier road. He hails a cab. They had a car ordered, but it wasn’t set to arrive for another hour. 

The drive home is a quiet one, and so it stays until they get home. The mansion itself seems to sit in silence. Jonathan brings Bruce up to his room, grabbing a blanket on their way up to wrap around his shoulders. The shaking has stopped, he’s noticed, so at least there’s that. Once his husband is comfortably seated on their bed, he leaves him to get tea and his personal journal, as he has much logging to do. 

But when Crane reaches the bottom of the stairs, Alfred is waiting for him, a tray with two mugs and his notebook stacked neatly. He’s done pretending this hasn’t become a regular thing.

“This isn’t how you treat people you love.” 

“And what are you implying?” Jonathan finds it funny, really. All the faith the old man still has in his master. Bruce should be flattered.

“You can very well assume what I mean.” He looks almost pained.

“Are you saying I don’t love him? That I do all this to Bruce for my own personal gain? As much as you refuse to see it, this is what he wants. I’m not manipulating him, I don’t need to. I could make you watch me carve up every inch of his body, and you’d have to.” That, he knows, would not be for Bruce. Physically hurting him would pain Alfred more. 

“I serve the Waynes, doctor. And did you take his last name, hm?” It’s true, Jonathan hadn’t taken the mantle. But he was as much Bruce’s family now as Alfred was, the title shouldn’t matter that much.

“Lay off Alfred.”  _ He speaks,  _ Jonathan thinks. He’s proud. Bruce is at the top of the stairs, looking desperate for any argument to stop. Crane takes the tray, almost forcefully, from the butler and up to their room.

“We’ll ring if we need anything.” He leaves it like that, a smirk and his hand on the small of Bruce’s back. 

Later that evening, and when Bruce is ready, Jonathan finds himself on top of his husband, the other buried deep inside of him. It’s so much better on nights like tonight, he likes to relish in it. An unsought reward is how much more Bruce needs him because of it. 

“Hand me your phone.” He lowers himself, laying across his chest and wrapping his fingers around his neck. Bruce complies. Jonathan types in Alfred’s number. “I’m calling him.” There’s no need to specify, or for Bruce to ask questions, just as there’s no reason for him to protest. He knows what’s going to happen. The only indication of his embarrassment is his red cheeks, and that could likely be from how close they are. It only rings for a moment. Before the servant can have a chance to speak, Jonathan takes it for him. 

“You think I don’t have power here?” He holds the phone up to Bruce’s cheek, and his ragged breaths sound through the receiver. “Love, tell Alfred exactly what you’re doing right now.”

“I’m-” he moans, his husband's hands on his chest don’t help anything. “I’m inside Jonathan.”

“In detail.” he smiles, placing kisses up his neck. He whispers in his ear. “I want him to know every bit of how you enjoy this.”

“He’s rolling his hips.” Bruce swallows as Jonathan sits back up. “Now he’s raising himself back up on my cock, lowering down. God it’s excruciating.” His breaths get heavier. “He keeps settling on my thighs, but there’s never a lull.” The doctor goes faster, and Bruce mumbles into the phone about how he’s picking up the pace. His words are getting spaced apart more. 

“Oh god, I’m meeting him now, I’m close.” Bruce keeps his word, unable to stay still any longer. “Alfred, I’m coming.” Jonathan never thought he’d be happier to hear Bruce moan out his completion to the closest thing he has to a father figure. He strokes himself to finish, the ecstasy of Bruce’s face and his own control helping.

“Is he still on?” he asks. Bruce pulls the phone away to check, and nods. It’s a surprise to even Jonathan. He takes the phone, holding it up to his own ear for a change. “You there Alfred?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand now?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He flips the phone shut, gently placing it on their nightstand. Bruce is softening, so Jonathan removes himself, lying down next to him. He kisses Bruce, long and hard, letting him know he’s being rewarded. “You did well darling.”

“I did?”

“Perfectly.” His hand on his chest, he feels a breath of Wayne’s air being released. 

The next morning they wake up, and the house feels different. Jonathan takes a look around, finding all of Alfred’s things cleared out. It’s like he was never there. When he goes back to Bruce in bed, he seems to already know. How, Jonathan isn’t sure. Maybe it’s the events of the night before, maybe it’s his face. But he has to ask.

“Was it worth it?”

Bruce nods. Jonathan can see deep inside him. That confirming was not to satisfy him, nor to convince Bruce himself. He’s been legitimately chosen over the man he’s known for years, and there’s nothing more satisfying than that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [reboot] by Waterparks


End file.
